The Daughter of Anderson Crow eBook

“A slip of the memory, that’s all.
He was probably thinkin’ of his wife, if he
has one.”

At a public meeting the town board was condemned for
its failure to strengthen the jail at the time Anderson
made his demand three years before.

“What’s the use in me catchin’ thieves,
and so forth, if the jail won’t hold ’em?”
Anderson declared. “I cain’t afford
to waste time in runnin’ desperite characters
down if the town board ain’t goin’ to obstruct
’em from gittin’ away as soon as the sun
sits. What’s the use, I’d like to
know? Where’s the justice? I don’t
want it to git noised aroun’ that the on’y
way we c’n hold a prisoner is to have him commit
suicide as soon as he’s arrested. Fer two
cents I’d resign right now.”

Of course no one would hear to that. As a result,
nearly five hundred dollars was voted from the corporation
funds to strengthen and modernise the “calaboose.”
It was the sense of the meeting that a “sweat
box” should be installed under Mr. Crow’s
supervision, and that the marshal’s salary should
be increased fifty dollars a year. After the adoption
of this popular resolution Mr. Crow arose and solemnly
informed the people that their faith in him was not
misplaced. He threw the meeting into a state
of great excitement by announcing that the kidnapers
would soon be in the toils once more. In response
to eager queries he merely stated that he had a valuable
clew, which could not be divulged without detriment
to the cause. Everybody went home that night with
the assurance that the fugitives would soon be taken.
Anderson promised the town board that he would not
take them until the jail was repaired.

It was almost a fortnight before Wicker Bonner was
able to walk about with crutches. The wound in
his leg was an ugly one and healed slowly. His
uncle, the Congressman, sent up a surgeon from New
York, but that worthy approved of “Doc”
Smith’s methods, and abruptly left the young
man to the care of an excellent nurse, Rosalie Gray.
Congressman Bonner’s servants came over every
day or two with books, newspapers, sweetmeats, and
fresh supplies from the city, but it was impossible
for them to get any satisfaction from the young man
in reply to their inquiries as to when he expected
to return to the big house across the river.
Bonner was beginning to hate the thought of giving
up Rosalie’s readings, her ministrations, and
the no uncertain development of his own opinions as
to her personal attractiveness.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able
to walk, Watkins,” he said to the caretaker.
“I’m afraid my heart is affected.”

Bonner’s enforced presence at Anderson Crow’s
home was the source of extreme annoyance to the young
men of the town. “Blootch” Peabody
created a frightful scandal by getting boiling drunk
toward the end of the week, so great was his dejection.
As it was his first real spree, he did not recover
from the effect for three days. He then took the
pledge, and talked about the evils of strong drink
with so much feeling at prayer meeting that the women
of the town inaugurated a movement to stop the sale
of liquor in the town. As Peabody’s drug
store was the only place where whiskey could be obtained,
“Blootch” soon saw the error of his ways
and came down from his pedestal to mend them.